When It Fails
by CodeVassie
Summary: As a defense mechanism, Gilbert is forced to forget everything while under Matthew's care. But every touch gives back painful memories and now he has a fear of being loved by another. How can his family and friends show that their love and caring is something not to be scared of?
1. A Vanished Past

_**Gift-fic for Sand! Congrats on University and good luck on your first day back!**_

 _ **This prompt was given to me by gdesertsand; hope you enjoy!**_

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Prompt: As a defense mechanism, Gilbert is forced to forget everything while under Matthew's care. But every touch gives back painful memories and now he has a fear of being loved by another. How can his family and friends show that their love and caring is something not to be scared of?

Chapter 1: A Vanished Past

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Is this what love brings? Pain… suffering… loss…

He didn't want any of it. It wasn't in his interest to hurt so much. He couldn't handle it. It was too much. Too much… too much…

The white-haired man curled up in his bed, facing the wall and back hunched so his body was a protective ball around him. He was locked in the tiny room he had called home for…he didn't even know how long anymore. It seemed he had lost track of the time. Oh.

This place had never been a home, no matter how many times he had heard it referred to as that. It was a prison. A prison that had become so ingrained into his head that he could not even remember a world outside of it. There were only wisps of his old life that still remained… the trill of his silver flute… stern words from his brother… the wops upside the head from his best friend…

Names, they had flown away from him. Places, they had become a blur. Time, it was as distant to him as the rest of the world.

These fleeting memories brought a bittersweet smile to his face every time. It would hurt his heart, yet it felt lighter all at once. He wasn't sure how that was possible - how something could bring him so much happiness and so much pain at the same time. When he closed his eyes and indulged in these fading memories, he could finally relax. He could pretend he was somewhere else. He could no longer image another place for him to be, but the mind was a powerful place and at times he was able to pretend. It lasted only for a split second, but wanting to remember times where he had been happy was well worth it. He needed to remember that at one point in his life he had been happy…

It used to be like that. Recently, though, "wanting" these memories had become a thing of the past. It used to be enough for his sanity to hold onto the good times - let them be an anchor in his topsy turvy life. It used to be that he wanted to grab these dwindling strands of memory and hold them close. He wanted to lose himself to the past and never again face his present. He had never dreamed that there would be a day that he would let them all go.

That day came when he finally realized what love did. It brought pain… suffering… loss…

The man curled into his blankets stared blankly at the wall, his insides in turmoil and his once vibrant red eyes dimming to a dull and glassy look. He had hoped for too long that holding onto his old life would help him. He had witnessed too much pain caused by the veil of love. He had endured too much suffering from those deceived by the poisonous emotion.

He didn't want any of it anymore. No more pain… suffering… loss… love…

He no longer held onto these memories as his anchor or his shield. Soon he no longer even reached out to them for comfort. What was the point in them? They did not help. In fact, he began to believe they caused more harm than anything.

He didn't hold on. They slipped away. He didn't reach for them as they dwindled, waned, disappeared, faded away. His recollection failed. His past vanished.

And his present did too. Because with the disappearance of the old memories, the newer ones could leave too. When he could forget the good, the bad left Gilbert's mind as well.

In the end, Gilbert was empty... but he was finally safe.

-/-

 _"Gilbert? Are you there?"_

Gilbert woke up in a hospital. Then he woke up again at the hospital. He was tired. Very tired. He couldn't keep his eyes open. He woke up in the same room, in the same bed, in the same hospital, many times that week. He didn't know why he was in a hospital or even what his own name was. _Gilbert_. Someone had said Gilbert.

The environment that surrounded him was stable, yet he himself felt anything but. White walls. Thin sheets. Beeps from machines and the solid door across the way from him. It stood as if it watched over him. The door never opened and the room never changed. There was only one thing he had been sure hadn't been there the first time he had woken up. A vase of flowers. After that, they didn't change other than in color and stature. They wilted and became brittle parchment instead of silky petals. Gilbert wished he could see them easier. Maybe holding onto this change every time he woke up would help keep him awake.

In the end, though, he would always fall back into sleep. After a week was when he woke up for good. Gilbert hadn't known how long he had been asleep, but he had heard a woman in a long white jacket talking to a man about it. The man looked familiar. That's funny, Gilbert had never met him before… now that he thought about it, Gilbert had never met anyone before.

The man had slicked back blonde hair and a level expression. If you didn't know him, you might call it a stern look that constantly was his features, but Gilbert knew better. How was that? He didn't even know the man.

He didn't know anyone… he couldn't remember anything… where was he… what was he doing here? Then Gilbert began to panic. He sat up, throwing the thin sheets of the hospital bed off of him, not knowing what he would do, but desperately knowing that this wasn't right. None of this was right. He didn't know anything. He didn't know what to do but panic.

The two looked up suddenly, now aware that Gilbert was fully awake and in need of restraining lest he messed up something or hurt himself. The man held his arms down while the woman called someone in. People flooded the room but Gilbert didn't pay attention to a single one of them. His attention was on the pair of blue eyes directly before him, piercing into his own. He knew these eyes and that calmed him if only for a second. Then his panic overtook him again.

How did he know those eyes? How? Howhowhow? It was all he could ask himself anymore.

Until a needle pierced his unnaturally pale skin a pumped whatever toxins or chemicals they held into his vein and drowsiness overtook him. Soon, Gilbert was fast asleep and damn if that didn't frustrate him even in his unconscious state.

-/-

"Do you not remember me?" Fear struck the other man and Gilbert unconsciously felt guilt weave into his heart at the sight.

Whether he felt guilty or not or even if it upset the man before him, Gilbert knew that he could only tell the truth. The truth was the least confusing thing at the moment and Gilbert was through with being confused between the nameless faces and all the talking over his head. No one seemed eager to talk directly to him except for this man in front of him and now Gilbert was beginning to think that speaking to him had been a bad idea.

Gilbert shook his head, an agreement of sorts to the question he had been asked. The man before him looked absolutely crushed at the news and had to look away from Gilbert's puzzled and searching eyes. He stayed silent for some time, gazing out the window to the left of Gilbert's bed, before he turned back, expressions under control and resolve set firmly in his face. "I would tell you to stop joking, but I can see you're not." He sighed and sat down in the chair beside the bed.

"I am Ludwig Beilschmidt, your brother." Gilbert felt his eyes widen at the statement. It was a concrete fact presented before him in a world of unknowns. It was the first certainty he had received since he had woken up that first time over a week ago.

He had a brother. This man was his brother. And Gilbert wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to that…

He stayed silent. "Do you remember anything? Do you know your own name?" Gilbert shook his head. He would have chimed up to say, 'It's Gilbert, isn't it? I heard someone say that.' but he couldn't. He could only stay silent, face expressionless as he listened.

"Your name is Gilbert Beilschmidt. You'll be twenty-two in January. January eighteenth if you want to know the exact date." Ludwig's lips formed a straight line when he stopped. Gilbert wanted to tell him to continue. He wanted to know everything. But one thought interrupted any others he might have been considering.

"Why don't I remember?"

Ludwig could no longer hold his gaze and it slipped down to his hands folded uniformly in his lap. Gilbert recognized this as an uncomfortable gesture. It was curious how he seemed to unconsciously know these things. "I don't know." It pained Ludwig to say those words; Gilbert could tell it in his body language, gestures, voice, features… his brother was like an open book to him. Gilbert wished he could remember the instances that built this instinct on how to interpret all these things.

He wanted to remember it all, so why did the thought bring an awful taste to his mouth?

-/-

When Gilbert was checked out of the hospital the home he went to wasn't as familiar to him as he had hoped.

"This is my apartment." Ludwig had said, "You'll probably be staying here for a while."

"Do I not have my own apartment?" Gilbert asked, looking around. If he could see his own apartment maybe it would help jog his memory more. During Gilbert's last days in the hospital, Ludwig had told him stories from their childhood and facts about his life and even answered a few of Gilbert's questions. Admittedly, most of them had gone ignored, but the few Gilbert had succeeded in had him satisfied enough in his abilities of persuasion that he didn't much mind.

Despite hearing so much about his past in just the few days after he had learned about his _amnesia_ , Gilbert craved for more. He wanted an actual memory to come back. He wanted to remember experiencing the things he listened to instead of merely just hearing about them. Seeing a familiar place might have helped, he thought. Well, this idea was put down immediately. "Not anymore." Was Ludwig's vague response to his question. Gilbert decided to not let his frustration get to him, even when it kept building and building each time his brother avoided a question like that.

Instead, Gilbert let Ludwig lead him to his room, the guest room if Gilbert had ever seen one. And he meant that. He had no idea if he had ever seen one. Surely he had seen a guest room before… right? Gilbert hadn't realized he was scratching his head in thought until Ludwig cleared his throat.

"This will be your room. There's the bathroom and the kitchen is down the hall, though I'd prefer if you just asked for anything. Make yourself at home and call me if you need anything." Under that tough shell, Ludwig was worried. Worried that Gilbert would hurt himself or break something. Worried he might wander off or remember something awful.

Ludwig wanted his brother to remember him… but did he want him to remember what he had gone through?

Gilbert didn't notice his worry as he made his way over to the twin bed in a corner of the room. He plopped down onto it and finally relaxed. It was so much better than the hospital bed. Sure, you could adjust the position of the hospital bed, but nothing beat a real bed in a real home. Besides, if you're stuck in a hospital bed, there's a good chance you won't be allowed out for weeks.

"Okay. I will be down the hall." Ludwig said in finality, but, before he could slip out, Gilbert stopped him.

"Wait!" Gilbert sprung up from the bed, stopping when Ludwig ceased his own path to the door. Honestly, Gilbert hadn't had anything specific in mind to say to him and now he was standing there like an idiot, with his brother waiting somewhat impatiently at the door. If Gilbert could deduce anything in the few days they had been talking to one another, it was that they had inherited the same intolerance for delay. "Um…" Gilbert searched for something to say, "Is there anyone else I know? Will I meet them soon?"

Ludwig seemed amused, as if he knew exactly that Gilbert was searching for any excuse to talk to him. "Yeah, you'll probably be meeting many people in the next few days. If you don't think you'll be up to it-"

"No!" Gilbert exclaimed then seemed to realize his outburst, "Um, I mean, pssh. Of course I can handle a few people." Gilbert searched for something else to say. He liked talking to Ludwig. It felt familiar and oddly comforting.

Ludwig seemed to pick up on this, "How about we watch a movie tonight? I can show you some of the movies you really like. You did always say that if you could watch them again without knowing anything about them you would." Ludwig chuckled and Gilbert thought about how nice it must be to have a memory to look back on to make you happy. Had he ever been able to take comfort in a memory like that?

"Alright. Movie night it is!" Ludwig left the room and Gilbert turned around in a big circle. He let his thoughts spin around as well. He went through every memory since he could remember, a harder task than it should have been since he could only remember the entirety of a couple days. He slouched onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He thought about who he would meet in the next few days. Friends… family…

Did he have more family? Why hadn't they come to see him yet? Why hadn't anyone but Ludwig come to see him in the hospital? He supposed friends wouldn't have really been invited so he wouldn't have been overwhelmed, but family surely would have come, right? Maybe he really didn't have anyone else… maybe there was only Ludwig…

Gilbert shook his head. That's stupid! He was too awesome to not have millions of adoring friends that must have worried about him. They had just been busy… or worried. That's it. They would be there soon.

-/-

Gilbert's first visitors came after a day of extreme boredom. Gilbert was glad to have someone, even someone he didn't know, over to entertain him and keep Ludwig from suggesting he go sit down with a good book. He didn't know anyone anyway, so he might as well.

The first person was a girl. That was a surprise to Gilbert. She had long brown hair and green eyes that were as wide as dinner plates when she stepped through the apartment door and saw Gilbert. She had rushed over and Gilbert was taken aback for a second thinking that she might try to hug him.

That's when a hard wop to the back of the head caused his skull to clatter. When he looked up the girl was standing in front of him, both hands on her hips and glaring down at him like he had drawn on her walls in Sharpie or something. Gilbert looked over at Ludwig, hoping he would know what to do. Ludwig would defend him if this girl threw a punch or ripped out his spleen or something, right?

What he saw did not reassure him, though. Ludwig was rolling his eyes and leaving the room. As if this all was normal as can be! And he called himself his brother! Brothers don't leave brothers to die!

"Gilbert, you're a damn idiot." The girl scolded him and he felt like he was being reprimanded by a teacher for plagiarism or something equally as terrifying. Then she did what he had thought she was going to do earlier, only he wasn't at all expecting it anymore. She crushed him in a hug.

"You're one confusing chick." He choked out through crushed lungs and lack of air. The girl pulled back, scrutinized him once more, then fell back and collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table. Gilbert made a note to be cautious when sitting at this table. There was no way to tell if an angry girl was about to storm around the corner and beat him to a pulp… or crush him in an embrace… he was still working this all out and, honestly, it kind of hurt his head.

"Ludwig filled me in over the phone." She was now sitting properly in the chair, legs crossed under the long skirt she wore and hands placed on one knee. It was as if the violent girl he had seen before had now disappeared. This only freaked him out more. Not only does he know what she's hiding under that exterior, but the expression, it looked somehow wrong to Gilbert. Was that his instincts kicking in again? Does he know this girl enough to know when she's off? "So, I should introduce myself properly. It probably freaked you out when I smacked you around, but honestly I can't help myself. It's been so long…" Her green eyes grew distant for a moment. Gilbert didn't like how soft she had suddenly gone - not one bit. "Elizabeta Héderváry. You usually call me Liz. Or bitch. And sometimes when you think I'm not listening, 'she-devil'."

Gilbert paused, somewhat in a panic. What had his past self been thinking? How was he not dead yet? "Uh, sorry?"

Elizabeta waved it off. "Nah, that's just how we work. Call me whatever, though. I doubt you're comfortable enough to pick up right where we left off."

Gilbert nodded. He was still afraid of this Elizabeta and he could see perfectly clear why he had called her a 'she-devil'. Nodding was safe. Nodding prevented angering the scary girl across from him that he had somehow befriended in a past life.

"So, is there anything you want to talk about? If you've got questions I might be able to answer them, especially if they're about your younger years. I met you back in elementary, so I would know." She was tapping her fingers softly on the table, causing only the softest of sound to resonate from the pads of her fingers against the wood. Gilbert picked up on her nervousness. Nervousness didn't suit her. He sensed this wasn't an attribute he had seen from her very often.

Gilbert thought that talking might help and damn if he wasn't curious. Gilbert asked a few questions. And she answered them no problem. A lot of the time they were short simple answers, but Gilbert learned more from her in this short amount of time than he had within a few days with Ludwig. Ludwig was too careful with what he told Gilbert, like he was afraid he would say too much. It built a lot of walls in their conversations.

"So, when did we first meet? You said we were in elementary." Gilbert asked. He was more comfortable with the 'she-devil' now that they had talked so much and he was starting to ask questions almost without fear - key word 'almost'; Gilbert wanted to keep his life after all.

"Third grade." Elizabeta took a sip from the tea Ludwig had brought in not too long ago. It was in a mug and she was holding it with both hands to heat them up. Gilbert hadn't noticed how chilly it must have been outside until he saw the warm coat, scarf, and mittens Elizabeta had been wearing when she had come in - and that realization hadn't truly come until she shedded the extra articles of clothing and draped them over the back of the chair. What? He had been busy protecting his own damn life from this girl!

"My dad moved us all here because he'll pick up his whole life in a heartbeat if his job asked, which it did." Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "I transfered into your class and, for a while, you thought I was a boy." Gilbert must have had an incredulous look on his face because Elizabeta rolled her eyes again, but not without a smirk adorning her lips. "Since you can't really come to your own defense at the moment, I must say that back then I thought I was a boy too. I don't even know why, my parents tried their hardest to dress me in pink and skirts, but I kept coming home wearing your clothes and finally they decided to start buying me tshirts and cargo shorts. You letting me borrow your clothes was probably the only reason that friendship worked out as long as it did. After the initial rocky part where we wanted to beat each other to a pulp every time we saw each other, we eventually became friends. Ludwig will tell you that our friendship is founded on nothing but competition."

"I let you borrow my clothes? If we weren't friends at first, why did I do that?"

"I think you'd have to ask yourself that. I never knew the reason. I don't think your grandfather approved tho-" Elizabeta cut herself off as if she had realized she had said something she wasn't supposed to.

Slowly, the gears of Gilbert's mind worked through what she had said. "My grandfather?" Was there really another family member out there? If he had a grandfather, why hadn't he come to see him yet?

"Oh, uh, would you look at that. I'm going to be late to work if I stay any longer!" She was pointing to her watchless wrist as she stood up and gathered her coat and things. "It's been so good to see you again, Gilbert." Then she paused again, letting her rushed words die in her throat as she turned to face him. A soft look crossed her features and Gilbert was once again struck with the odd feeling that look did not belong there, especially not directed at him. It did not look completely alien, but directed at him made it almost so.

"Really, Gilbert. I'm so happy you're okay. We were all so worried." A pained look could briefly be seen before her customary smirk masked it. This smirk, it looked more like her. Then Gilbert thought of her words.

Okay? What was she talking about? He had freaking amnesia! Compared to what was he okay?

Gilbert got up to lead her out and on the way noticed a new person on the couch sitting next to his brother. He had soft auburn hair and a loose curl that sprung out away from his face. The strand seemed familiar to Gilbert in a way that made a shiver run up his spine. He felt cold.

That was, until the man stood up and practically bounced across the room to Gilbert. He almost threw the taken off guard man into a hug before Elizabeta stood in front of him and gave the soft smile Gilbert had seen before to the shorter man. The hug was thrown at Eliza instead.

"Hello, Feli! It's been so long!"

"Elizabeta! Ludwig told me you were here! How are you?"

Through the exchange, Gilbert watched and noticed the demeanour of the two. He had never met the man - Feli, was it? - but he noticed that Elizabeta seemed a lot more at ease now. The soft smiles looked natural when directed at the auburn man.

Gilbert also noticed that Ludwig had made his way around the couch to stand at Feli's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Was it normal for people to stand so close together? Then the shorter man wrapped his arm through Ludwig's and Gilbert somehow knew.

His brother had a boyfriend.

And, for some reason, that brought a happy smirk to his face. Imagining that his brother was happy with this man, it made Gilbert happy. Plus, he now had perfect teasing material. If little brothers weren't for teasing, what were they for? If there was something else, Gilbert sure as hell didn't remember it.

"Gilbert," Ludwig spoke and Gilbert noticed that Elizabeta had stepped back when she had been sure the shorter man wouldn't fling himself at the constantly confused Gilbert, "This is Feliciano."

The man waved and spoke up, "Feliciano Vargas! Wow, it's odd introducing yourself to someone you've known for so long. I mean, I first met you in the first grade; of course, that meant you were actually in the third grade but the point is we've known each other very very long."

"Um, okay. It's awesome to remeet you then."

Feliciano gasped suddenly and said excitedly, "You still say it! Oh _mio dio_ I haven't heard you say that in so long!" Tears had sprung in Feliciano's eyes and Gilbert took that as a cue to become slightly panicky. He hadn't meant to make the guy cry!

"Oh! I'm sorry; I didn't mean it! Uh, what did I say? I'll take it back!"

Feliciano shook his head rapidly and swiped at his eyes. "You didn't say anything wrong! It's just that, well, you used to say 'awesome' all the time. I had almost forgotten about it… it's been so long…" Feliciano took this moment to hide his face by burying it in Ludwig's chest. Ludwig was looking back and forth between the two trying to deem who was in more distress, his emotional and high strung boyfriend or his confused amnesiac brother.

Gilbert surprised them all then by being the first to speak up, "Hey, Feli, no need to cry! That's so unawesome!" The word felt right on Gilbert's tongue and he hoped it wouldn't make the man cry even more, "Why don't you tell me all about you and how you met Ludwig. I sure have a lot of catching up to do!"

Feliciano peered out from his hidey hole with a spark of hope in his eyes. "Really? Oh, you want me to tell you about how we all met? That would be great! I love telling that story!" Feliciano giggled and it was as if his tearstained moment had never happened.

Then Ludwig spoke up. "Why don't we sit on the couch and talk? Gilbert shouldn't strain himself too much; he only just got home. Elizabeta, will you be joining us?"

"Oh no. I must be going. It's been a treat seeing you all again and I will definitely be back soon. I want to make sure this guy doesn't wander off again without telling us." She pointed a thumb at Gilbert and Ludwig gave a polite smile as he led her to the door. Feliciano waved Gilbert to the sitting room.

When Ludwig returned, Feliciano started and Gilbert briefly wondered as he listened to the man how his little bruder could keep up with him. He spoke at a thousand words a minute and didn't even seem to need to breath in between. "Well! The first time you met me you thought I was a girl! Everyone did back then; we met when I was in first grade which I guess meant you were in third grade, but I already said that…" Gilbert thanked his quick uptake that he could keep up with the man. The energy that came with Feliciano could rival his own when he was in an awesome mood. Perhaps Gilbert had unintentionally been the one to train Ludwig for his eventual meeting with Feliciano. That what big brothers did after all, right? Well, he wasn't one to ask at the moment, but he was sure he was as awesome a brother as awesome could be!

"You first talked to me because you had a crush on my brother, Lovino! It was so cute! I remember Lovino talking about you at home and you really wouldn't leave him alone…" Gilbert wondered what other kinds of small details like this of his past that he would never get back. Would he be grateful that some of them would never be remembered? He couldn't imagine such a thing at the moment when all Gilbert wanted was to remember, but the idea still seemed like a plausible one. What sort of things had happened to him that he might even be considered lucky for forgetting them?

"You grew out of it, as far as I know and your family moved that year too, so I didn't see you for a long while after that…" Feliciano was still talking and Gilbert was still thinking. Past embarrassments? Heartbreak even? He had lost memories of family and friends… did he even want to remember them? If they weren't with him now should he want to remember why? "Then we ran into each other at that bar you work at - worked at - and that's when you introduced me to Ludwig, who had dropped by for some reason or another…"

Gilbert couldn't decide what was better, remembering everything from his past or having the chance to start anew without the pesky attachments. His heart said he wanted the memories, but his head told him that may not be the best idea… Maybe he should just be grateful to have this chance to forget everything… but he couldn't. Not when he was so curious. Not when he felt like he was missing so many important things. "Gilbert?"

Gilbert's attention snapped up. He had been staring at his feet and hadn't noticed the conversation dwindle. "Sorry Feli. What was that?"

Feliciano gave a sweet smile. "I was just checking to see if you were alright. You've been silent for a while." Ludwig was looking at him with concern and Gilbert's face turned darker with a blush.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." But Gilbert didn't feel fine. Nothing felt fine. He felt lost and confused. He felt like something was missing. It was the feeling as if everyone was trying their best to help on something important but he was sitting on the sidelines, not doing a thing. He was torn between remembering and forgetting. Gilbert just felt… wrong.

"Hey, but I thought you were a girl?" Gilbert laughed his troubles off, surprised at how easy lying off his discomfort and unhappiness was. "I thought Elizabeta was a boy. I sound like I was constantly confused when I was younger." Another laugh.

But even now, he still felt constantly confused.

-/-

The next morning Gilbert woke wondering if he would have anymore visitors today. He still had the same lost feeling rattling around his head as he stared at his empty room, still laying in bed in the exact position he had woken in. He had been laying there for five minutes. He still wanted to remember and he still wasn't sure if it would be better if he would just forget.

Finally, Gilbert slipped out from under the blankets piled on top of each other that helped keep warm in the winter months. His feet felt cold when they were no longer tucked in the toasty home of the bed so he tip-toed over to his sock drawer, digging through until he found a bright red pair. He frowned at the socks, the color somehow putting him off, and threw them back in, shuffling around until he came up with a pair of black ones. Then he crept to his door which he opened quietly. Despite his brother being an early riser, Gilbert often found himself up even before him, so he tip-toed around to not wake him.

Today he wondered if he should go jump on his little brother's bed to wake him up. It sounded like fun and he smiled at the idea as he padded down the hallway. Then, he froze, midway to the kitchen and completely unaware at first as to why his feet had stopped him. That's when he smelled it…

An aroma wafted into the hallway; it was sugary and sweet. There was a hint of flour that mixed in it all and Gilbert could practically imagine the fluffy breakfast treats being tossed on a griddle a few steps away in the next room. He had no recollection of it but the sweet smell made him nauseous. A chill ran up his spine and, before anything else could register, Gilbert spun on his heals in retreat for the bathroom at the end of the hallway. He made it in time and somehow remembered to stop to slam the door closed and lock it before he heaved into the toilet bowl whatever contents of last night's dinner still remained in his stomach.

 _Pancakes! Our favourite!_

Gilbert was shaking and stone cold. He spread his hands out on the tile flooring of the bathroom and focused on steadying his breathing. Then the soft voice invaded his thoughts again.

 _Our favorite!_

Dry heaving was even worse than the original heaving.

This pain, he didn't want this pain. Why did it hurt? Why did he feel empty at the same time, as if all hope had been washed from his mind long ago? Why did Gilbert just want to curl up on those cool tiles below him and never rise again? How was so much pain able to flood his body at a few short words said by a soft and sweet voice? Why did the smell beyond that room make him so nauseous, enough that he was only now hearing his brother's persistent knocking on the door. Ludwig was worried, but Gilbert couldn't do anything at the moment. It was all too much.

He hunched over and held either side of his head. Tears were streaming down his face. He was safe, wasn't he? He had made sure he was safe.

 _Is this what love brings? Pain… suffering… loss…_

His own voice rang through his head now and Gilbert recognized the words. They were the words that had protected him. It was the truth he had forced himself to forget to protect himself from the memories of it all.

Love did this. It hurt. It corrupted. It poisoned. He couldn't love anyone. He couldn't let anyone love him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, trying to escape the world and the constant banging at the door and the smell of vomit and whatever terrible sugary sweet came from the kitchen.

Gilbert knew now. He remembered.

Gilbert remembered enough now to know that he never even wanted to remember.


	2. A Confusing Present

**Once again, for Sand!**

* * *

Chapter 2: A Confusing Present

* * *

"So, why exactly am I here again?" Gilbert was still confused, despite having asked that question to at least three different people this morning. He was sitting in a chair that faced a wide desk littered in papers carefully hidden by little plaques and picture frames at the edge of the surface. The plaques faced away from the desk while the frames faced towards it. Gilbert wondered what sort of pictures the owner of the office kept in them.

"Well, Gilbert," The woman had starting using his first name after asking permission in the first five seconds of introduction, "You have amnesia, as you know, and it is a very interesting case. You see, the reason for your memory loss seems to be a defense mechanism of sorts, buffering you against certain painful memories you would like to be distanced from. Technically, the theory of repression isn't a scientifically proven one, but that doesn't make your case any less credible. Just… special."

The therapist -Johanna, as she had asked him to use her first name as well- spoke to him as if he was a child, carefully, kindly, and slowly, as if he needed extra time to process the information. He restrained himself from pointing out that he had amnesia, not brain damage.

"Okay…" Gilbert replied cautiously. As much as he hated how slow the woman was going, Gilbert found himself doing so as well to make sure he didn't say anything out of the ordinary and send up red flags to the trained eyes of the professional across from him, "So you want me to remember?"

"That's a goal, yes, but it is still much more complicated than that." Gilbert felt like a hypocrite as he started to grow impatient at the woman's excruciatingly slow words, "If it truly is a defense mechanism, then we will need time for healing. It could be dangerous to rush the remembering, especially since your mind seems to be protecting you from something in those memories. It's best to take it slow."

Perfect. Just what Gilbert wanted to hear. _Take it slow_. He was sure his patience would run dry before the hour with the woman was up. He looked at the clock on the wall behind the desk. It had only been ten minutes.

Holding back a huff, Gilbert asked another question, "What is my mind protecting me from then? From what I've heard from Ludwig and everyone, my life before seemed to have been going pretty well." Gilbert couldn't help but to be curious, despite his better judgement. He knew that he didn't want to remember… but he still didn't know why. _Why?_ That always seemed to be the question...

Johanna - it was still weird calling her that - pierced her lips and looked intently at Gilbert. He could tell she was holding back. "Like I said, Gilbert, all in good time."

And that was the last they spoke of it. Gilbert couldn't tell if he should feel relieved or frustrated by that...

For the rest of the hour Johanna asked him trivial things such as how home life was and what he was doing day after day. They never spoke about the past unless Gilbert brought up something Ludwig or Elizaveta or Feliciano had said to him and it was never for long. Gilbert avoided the past as well as he could, remembering that excruciating feeling he had felt when he'd remembered just a fraction of what had happened to him. His past hadn't been a happy place like all the others had said… it wasn't hard to remind himself that he didn't want to remember.

But sometimes he couldn't help himself. Questions and curiosities would sprout up. Gilbert knew these questions would come back to bite him...

Eventually, they reached the end of the session and it turned out that Gilbert _did_ have enough patience to last the whole time, only if because most of the hour was spent in meaningless questioning and silence. That didn't stop him from escaping as quickly as he could when she had announced that their time together was over. The last thing Gilbert heard as he beelined for the door was the woman letting him know to check into the desk on his way out.

-/-

After his session, Ludwig and he swung by the supermarket to pick up a few things for dinner.

As they walked around, a man caught Gilbert's eye who was standing in front of a shelf of produce and scanning the selection and price tags from behind spectacled eyes. The first thing he noticed about the regal man was his dark brown hair and cravat that adorned the front of his shirt. A cravat? Who the hell did this guy think he was? An aristocrat? When the man turned, Gilbert noticed that he had what you might call a 'pretty' face with spectacles perched on his nose and a mole just below his lips and to the right. When the man noticed him, he did not seem amused in the least as he started to immediately walk over.

When Ludwig noticed, he stiffened and Gilbert finally caught on that catching the attention of the man might not have been a good idea.

"Ah, yes. I had heard that you were back." The man said as he approached, "Shall you be attending practice again soon?" The man asked, might he say, somewhat arrogantly.

"Um…" Was all Gilbert could say before his brother interrupted.

"He is in no condition to be worrying about such things. He must recover before he considers taking up music again." Ludwig had squared his shoulders to appear more intimidating, but the other seemed to not have noticed. No, actually, he seemed to not have cared.

"Yes, I heard. Gilbert has _amnesia_. All the more reason for music, might I say. Music heals better than anything and he will need practice even more now that he must have forgotten everything about the flute." He spoke with an accent, one that Gilbert found hard to place, despite somehow knowing his past self would have recognized it on the spot.

"I used to play the flute?" Gilbert asked, now interested.

The man rolled his eyes, "If you could call it 'playing'. Honestly, I don't see how you could call yourself a flutist."

Gilbert felt offended, if not for his past self, but for his present amnesiac brain. "Bet I could do better than you even if I _do_ have amnesia." He mumbled, causing an amused look to cross the other's face.

"Thursdays are always open, Gilbert. That's the usual day you come, if you didn't know. I will be seeing you then." Then, without another word or a backward glance, the man walked past with his basket of groceries to one of the check-out lines, leaving the two German brothers behind.

"Um, Lud, who was that?" Gilbert turned to his brother who was still angrily watching after where the man had disappeared.

At the question, though, Ludwig turned a surprised face to Gilbert. Shit, what had Gilbert done this time? Had it been the nickname? It had just slipped out!

Ludwig turned away and began walking down the aisle they had previously been about to turn down before the encounter. Was it Gilbert or was there a smile on Ludwig's face? It was barely noticeable, but Gilbert's eyes seemed trained to spot it. He had made his brother smile… it had been so long since he had seen that smile…

"That was Roderich Edelstein. He was your music instructor before…" Ludwig trailed off, "Well, you and him didn't get along all that well. There isn't much to say about him. You talked about him a lot, so I think you had some sort of frienemies thing. Like with Elizaveta, except you could actually stand Elizaveta."

"I'm frienemies with Elizaveta?" Gilbert inquired, eyebrow cocking at the information. It was not surprising news. Gilbert didn't know why, but had forfeited to his memories by then to not care. It didn't seem fair that things he didn't even remember were commanding his life, but there wasn't much he could really do about it.

Ludwig raised his shoulders in a shrug, "Maybe not frienemies… more like rivals, I guess. You do stuff like rough housing and competing. Your relationship is an interesting one."

Gilbert began to nod. This made sense. This is why her soft smiles and worried expressions seemed so foreign to him. Smirks and sneers, that's who Elizaveta was to him.

"Actually," Ludwig spoke up again, "You first met Roderich through Elizaveta. They used to date. I was never sure why you kept taking lessons from him after they broke up." Ludwig shrugged like it really wasn't that big of a deal. It sounded odd to Gilbert, though. If he hated Roderich so much, why hadn't he taken lessons from someone else? Was he really that good of an instructor? From what Roderich had been saying, Gilbert wasn't very good at flute which didn't exactly sound like the merits of a good teacher.

As they walked through the store, Ludwig picking certain items for whatever he had deemed appropriate for dinner that evening, Gilbert continued to think.

His life was confusing and, if he wanted to keep from remembering anything it was probably best to stay away from anyone who might jog those memories. Nevertheless, it was really tempting to go to see this Roderich again.

'Thursdays' had been what he'd said, hadn't it...?

-/-

"Go on, Gilbert. I don't have all the time in the world." Roderich flipped his hand as he commanded the uneasy amnesiac to play. Gilbert couldn't remember a thing from his days of playing the flute, but Roderich had insisted that he wasn't 'dumb enough to forget the proper poise for playing'. Now Gilbert was naturally sitting on the very edge of his chair, back straight and flute perched to his lips. Roderich wanted him to play.

"I don't remember anything." Gilbert complained, whining to this man seemed natural to him.

Roderich was taking none of it, though. He kept dismissing his worries and complaints and now he wasn't even talking to him! Finally Gilbert'd had enough. Roderich wanted him to play? Fine.

He shifted back into position, letting his spine sit in a natural straightened position. He was ready and he was about to show this prissy Austrian (as he had figured out earlier in the day while arguing with the man) how it's done.

One simple note was all it took. Gilbert couldn't remember what any of the notes meant or where they sat along the surface of the shiny instrument, but it was instinct to him to play just a single note, letting the sound out strong and pure into the silent room they sat in. It bounced off of the walls to fill the small practice room until all that surrounded them was that one note.

Gilbert became immersed in the instrument. He put his heart into the note and let his soul echo in the chambers of the flute. His fingers stayed still and his shoulders relaxed as his practice washed over him. No other thoughts intruded his mind. Forgotten memories and pain didn't matter at the moment. Nothing existed around him, yet Gilbert could feel the world spin beneath him. No one else existed, yet Gilbert was comforted by familiar figures in his mind. Memories leaned on him instead of the other way around as it normally happened lately. Gilbert didn't need the memories; they needed him.

The note grew quieter. Gilbert's breath, though strong from years of playing, could not last forever. He had the lungs of a professional swimmer and lips sculpted for playing. The flute was a part of him that he could not leave behind in the past he had forsaken. He didn't quite know yet if that was a good or bad thing, though he did know he had missed this.

The sound died and Gilbert became aware that his eyes had drifted closed. He stayed that way for a few seconds more, absorbing the calm that was still settled over him and his surroundings. He was slowly coming back to his senses and became aware that he was in a small practice room that sat in a tiny office building across town from the apartment he shared with his brother. There was another person in the room. Gilbert opened his eyes upon this remembrance.

There was emotion in Roderich's eyes. Gilbert couldn't place it - this unmistakeable surge of feeling that had intruded upon the dark-haired man's cold features. The shine of the flute glinted from the corner of Gilbert's vision, still perched to his lips though he had ceased his playing.

This scene, a familiar feeling flute pressed just below his lips, Roderich sitting on the piano stool across the short distance of the small room, it was unmistakably a replication of something that had happened in his forgotten memories. Gilbert couldn't remember a single song or melody, but it was comforting to hear the pure tone of the instrument as he padded a finger on it instinctively. It had not been a song, yet it had somehow sounded even more beautiful this way.

"I had never thought seven months could feel so long. It's as if a lifetime has gone by." Roderich said, very much out of character, Gilbert thought. He wasn't looking at Gilbert anymore and neither did his words sound intended for the other. "I had a horrible feeling about that man. I wasn't the only one, of course. Antonio had started having his suspicions also. Which should have been a red flag in itself - Antonio and I agreeing on something."

Roderich had gone silent. Gilbert and his curiosity couldn't allow that, though. "What do you mean? Suspicions about who? Who's Antonio?"

Roderich met Gilbert's eyes. His fist clenched as if he had become spontaneously angered at Gilbert. Gilbert was surprised by this sudden anger, yet it all felt familiar to him. He was starting to get tired of so many familiar things when they had no right in his mind to feel that way. No words passed between them as Roderich made determined eye-contact with Gilbert, his eyes strangely calm. Gilbert was taken aback and, before he knew it, thoughts flew through his mind. They were foreign, yet, like everything else in this confusing present, familiar. It was as if a spot in his mind had been filled… but now it was as if that spot no longer belonged to him. He could remember something. He didn't want to remember.

" _Are you going out with that quiet friend of yours?" His grandfather asked with an amused expression not accustomed to his face. Gilbert knew he had adopted this expression from his old friend, Roma. "Is there something going between you two that I should know about?"_

 _Gilbert groaned, both from the stupidly happy-go-lucky mood his grandfather had slipped into somehow (probably too much alcohol. Funny, his grandfather had never struck him as_ _ **that**_ _kind of drunk) and the constant insinuation from people who assumed him and Matthew were dating._

" _Vati, me and Birdie? We're too good friends for that." Gilbert laughed as he thought about the prospect. Sure, Matthew was cute and fun to be around, but Gilbert just didn't think of him that way. It wasn't anything personal. He did love his buddy, just not in that way. "I've actually got to go to work."_

 _His grandfather's expression changed as if a thunderstorm had crossed it. Gilbert knew immediately he had said the wrong thing. "When will you get a real job, Gilbert? You cannot be a bartender for the rest of your life."_

 _Anger and nervousness bubbled in Gilbert's chest. He decided to let the anger assist him and ignored his anxiety. "I enjoy being a bartender, Vati. It pays well enough and I get to talk to people-" His hands were balled into fists, holding his anger at bay._

" _It is not a real job, Gilbert. When will you grow up and take responsibility for your future?"_

 _This is when Gilbert exploded. "MY FUTURE IS MY BUSINESS!"_

The memory cut off. It hadn't been as if he'd had a flashback and he had blacked out. None of that had happened. The memory had just been there and Gilbert had seen it in his mind's eye. His hands were shaking now and his skin had gone paler than the chalky white it had already been. It had lasted only a second, but Roderich had noticed. He was a more astute person than Gilbert had given him credit for.

"Gilbert?" His voice sounded worried. No, that couldn't be right. Roderich couldn't be worried for _him_. "What is the matter?" Roderich's voice shook, yet he managed to keep any raw emotion from seeping into his words. He had stood from his piano bench but had chosen not to approach Gilbert.

Gilbert shook his head and Roderich stiffened. This seemed to be all the confirmation he needed. He walked over with graceful steps and careful feet. "It seems that music is not the solution to your problems right now." Gilbert's head whipped up. _What_ had Roderich just said? "Perhaps it is time for you to make your way back to your apartment."

Roderich kept his emotions in check, not a single disturbance in his features or gestures hinted to any troubles in his emotional state. But his words… they had been the key into seeing into Roderich's mind then. Music could not help in this situation. It could not magically heal Gilbert of his amnesia or the pain of those lost memories. Music had failed and that hurt Roderich. Now Gilbert realized what Roderich had truly wanted him here for. Music should have healed him; perhaps not right away, but with time music had always done its job for Roderich. In his own childish and naive way, Roderich had been trying to help Gilbert.

And it had failed.

"Roddy," Gilbert spoke up, the nickname rolling off his tongue like much of the speech he had become familiarized with, "..." Gilbert couldn't think of a single other thing to say.

"Thursdays are always open." Roderich said in finality and turned away. Gilbert sat there for a while, trying to find something to say. Eventually, though, he stood and left as Roderich had instructed.

On his way out, Gilbert could have sworn he heard Roderich say something. It was whispered from tight lips to the smooth white and black keys of the piano the musician had fixed his gaze on, "I should have done something…"

Gilbert exited through the doorway as the solemn music of the piano played behind him. For once, Roderich didn't take comfort in his piano.

-/-

Gilbert could feel himself breaking on the walk home. Why was his very being threatening to fall apart? Should it be this easy for a person to shatter into fragments of themselves? Gilbert knew he had to get home quickly. His mind told him it was important to get there soon, yet his feet dragged and all he could do to hold himself together was wrap his arms around himself. The physical barrier would do nothing, but it was all he could do. He couldn't stop here. He couldn't curl up on the sidewalk and hide his face from the world and his eyes from the light. His guest room in Ludwig's apartment… please be soon.

Too long did it take to reach his destination. He numbly opened the front door with the key his brother had lent him and slid in. Ludwig was in the living room on the phone.

"I'm worried about him…"

The words didn't pass through Gilbert's ears. He closed the door behind him softly and started to shuffle to his room. Almost there... This floor looked comfortable… No, almost there.

"Gilbert, is that you?" Ludwig's voice came from the living room. The thought of answering made Gilbert's lips heavy and his mind muddled. He started to shake his head and continued down the hall.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert swallowed the heaviness that kept his lips in place. He was unable to insert emotion into his response though and his words were flat. "Yeah, I'm here. I'm tired so I'm going to go take a nap." So many words. So much effort.

Ludwig walked into the hall and paused when he saw his brother. Worry etched his brow. "Are you alright, bruder?"

Gilbert nodded and gave a dry smile. Ludwig didn't look convinced. Gilbert didn't blame him.

Neither did Gilbert care at that moment about leaving his brother worrying there in the hall as he turned back around and opened the door to his room.

"Gil-" But Ludwig didn't get the chance to finish what he was going to say. Gilbert had closed the door and was on his way to his bed.

 _Ludwig loves you. He's your brother, so it's not a surprise… it's still a mistake though. I can't do the same. He can't- I can't- ugh._

Gilbert squeezed his eyes shut and drowned silently in his consuming thoughts.

 _What about Feli? Elizaveta? Roderich? Do they too? To some degree they must, I guess. No! No! No! Shut up! They can't! I can't… They missed me… they care that I can't remember… they care… DAMN IT NO! I'm so fucked up. Why can't I fix something? Anything? They can't love me! It's a mistake!_

Gilbert was shaking. The very thought of it scared him to pieces. They all loved him. He couldn't let that happen but what was he to do? It terrified him. Why was he so scared?

Gilbert realized he had been holding his breath and he took a deep gasp in, opening his eyes. He was staring at the wall beside the bed… his arms were latched around him…

The wall was plain. It was white. A blank slate to project his thoughts. A canvas to lose himself and abandon rationale. Something so familiar to this… something Gilbert was forgetting…

The memories clicked into place before Gilbert could help it.

" _You called me 'Birdie', Gil. You saw me when no one else did. I knew from the start that I loved you; why can't you love me too?"_

" _It's okay. You just need time. It's a good thing I've arranged us all the time in the world."_

Gilbert's nails dug into the skin of his forearms as his wide eyes stared blankly at the wall.

" _I'm glad you love me. I knew you just needed time! It was always meant to be. I knew it from the first time you spoke to me. I was a shadow behind my brother and just an invisible boy whenever he wasn't around. You were the first to ever see me. You were the only one."_

Blood streamed down Gilbert's arms from little crescent shaped cuts. He still didn't release his hold.

" _We belong together, Gil." A soft smile accompanied the words. "An 'awesome' fate fit for the two of us, as you might say." Matthew laughed endearingly, as if everything were perfectly okay - as if what he had said had made perfect sense - as if he were not slipping further and further into madness. "You're probably tired, though. It's been a long night. What about I make some pancakes, eh? With maple syrup? It's our favorite!"_

Gilbert's eyes were still trained on the wall. Remembering was like finding a puzzle piece to a puzzle you never wanted to finish. Now he remembered and it was tearing him apart more than he ever thought… perhaps it was a bit more frightening than simply finding the piece of a puzzle…

"Our favorite…" Gilbert whispered.

-/-

Gilbert had been working on hiding himself behind a mask. His smile became easier while his reasons to do so thinned. Exhaustion hid behind false energy. Emptiness behind loud words and wild gestures. Smiles were a defense and laughter his offense.

It worked mostly, but Ludwig was terrible at hiding when he was worried. Gilbert's brother worried more than anyone and 99.96% of his worry had been directed straight at Gilbert lately. Ludwig didn't challenge his brother, though. He kept a watchful eye on him, but never called his bluff. Neither convinced themselves Gilbert was okay, but both tried.

"So how come I can still speak in both German and English? Shouldn't English have been something I forgot as apart of the amnesia?" Gilbert repeated the question Feliciano had asked him the other day. If Gilbert'd had the energy for it, he would have been curious too, but, at the moment, it was simply a way to avoid other matters with the therapist.

Johanna, still an odd name to refer to her as even though he had been calling her that for weeks now, smiled kindly at the question. "You know what motor skills are, right?" Gilbert nodded his head. "Well, it's a lot like that. You have something called declarative memory and something else called procedural memory. You have to recall declarative memories, so it's a conscious thing. With procedural memory it's instinctive, automatic, implicit. You remember it unconsciously, if that makes sense."

Gilbert nodded again, taking in the information but mostly trying to find something else to keep the conversation from veering too far into territories he would rather keep uncharted. After the silence stretched too long Gilbert looked up to see Johanna looking at him calmly and Gilbert knew exactly what sort of things were going through her mind.

Johanna knew everything that Ludwig had told her. This meant that she knew everything. She knew about him throwing up in the bathroom and she knew about him locking himself up in his room. She knew about his moodiness and the fact that he had barely eaten anything in the past three days. She knew about every little thing that his little brother was concerned about and every situation that had worried him.

She knew everything and this caused her to try her absolute hardest to get him talking. And did Gilbert talk.

Nothing he had to say was of any relevance to the things she asked. He evaded the questions like a well-versed politician and instead brought up trivial experiences of his week and weak questions he thought up on the spot. He held an empty smile but couldn't control how he hunched over in a disheartened slump. Gilbert clenched his hands as tight as he could, wishing he could dig his nails into his arm to keep his thoughts straight. The scars where he had done just that these past few days were hidden underneath long sleeves, but they weren't simply just on his arms anymore. They trailed all over his skin from his shoulders to wrists, along his sides and waist. Hurting himself in this way couldn't have been healthy - he knew this inherently - but it helped so he continued with it.

It wasn't exactly a good idea to do so in a therapist's office, though. Gilbert wasn't ready to so easily give this woman something to pen into her little notepad she kept on her desk. That satisfaction didn't belong to her.

Who's satisfaction should it have been then? Gilbert's? Was clawing himself to blood and scars something to be satisfied with? If he didn't feel so emotionless and flat Gilbert thought he would have felt repulsed by his behavior. He hoped he would have felt that way…

The therapist talked more about amnesia. She asked if he had remembered anything and he had replied with a simple 'No.' She had looked disappointed like she had known he was lying. Heck, she probably did. He didn't care.

Gilbert had only remembered snippets since the day he had first clawed his arm to bleeding- since that blank wall had dredged up so much. Now seeing that wall made him nauseous.

Those snippets were always random. A short memory of spending his sixteenth birthday with two boys around his age. One had long blonde hair. The other dark and curly. He remembered the innocent smile of six-year-old Ludwig. Elizaveta spinning a frying pan in the middle of a kitchen in jeans and a green blouse.

Gilbert hadn't remembered anything more about his grandfather - or _Vati_ as he actually called him. What he had remembered in the practice room was all he had of him. There were so many mysteries…

Gilbert was done with mysteries. He wanted to stay in the dark. In the dark he was safe. He was only safe if he did not remember.

"Gilbert, are you alright?" This was a question Gilbert had become familiar with in these recent times. It was the only thing that had the right to feel familiar to him. Gilbert looked up from the palms of his hands. He was sitting on the couch at home. Gilbert flinched at the thought. He had called this his _home_ …

Gilbert was lost for a brief moment between that single word and the confusing reality that he was in the apartment. He had forgotten that Ludwig had picked him up after his session with Johanna. He had forgotten that he had been watching reruns of 'Friends' on the television in the apartment's living room.

Gilbert hid his confusion behind a strained laugh and answered, "Of course your awesome bruder's alright!"

Ludwig looked disappointed. Gilbert had received a lot of those looks lately. "Really, Gilbert? You don't look alright."

"I'm as alright as an amnesiac can be, little Luddy! Don't you worry your pretty little head!" Gilbert swung his arm over the back of the couch and turned to face his brother.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, a smirk on his lips at his brother's typical response. Despite this, Gilbert knew he still hadn't convinced his brother.

Gilbert wasn't convinced either. He couldn't even convince himself. Gilbert knew, deep down, that he really wasn't alright...


	3. An Uncertain Future

**For Sand. Thank you for everything. Sorry the chapter is so late!**

* * *

Chapter 3: An Uncertain Future

(warnings for attempted suicide and dark themes)

* * *

Gilbert knew he wasn't alright. He stayed away from everyone as much as he could. He began acting in ways that even he could not convince his brother that he was okay. Soon he didn't even care that there was no excuse he wouldn't come out of his bedroom, even for meals. Gilbert stopped telling his brother that he was busy with some made up project he was working on to instead saying he was just tired or not feeling well. His excuses became flimsy and soon he stopped making them. Soon all that greeted Ludwig when he knocked at the door was silence.

Gilbert knew Ludwig would have bust down the door if it wasn't for the fact that he kept it unlocked. Every now and again Gilbert would hear a creak at the door, the sound of his brother checking on him to once again to see him curled up in a ball on his bed. Gilbert didn't respond to the beam of light that streamed in from the hallway or Ludwig's questions anymore.

"I am going to the store. Would you like to accompany me, Gilbert?"

"Your appointment with Dr. Anderson is at three. Are you going today?"

"Gilbert, are you alright?"

"Why won't you say anything, bruder?"

The room was Gilbert's only sanctuary. Perhaps this was the reason they had started calling mental wards 'Asylums'. Gilbert felt he would go mad in his safe place.

Despite never leaving that room, lest it be for necessary human tasks that could not be ignored, Gilbert found that the breach in his head of memories was only widening, letting more and more of them escape. His defenses were down, crumbling. Curled up in his bed, staring at a dark wall, it was all he could do to help it. He focused on keeping himself together, but that only made the wall fall apart faster.

 _"Gilbert, your new job is quite to my liking." A man with blonde, shoulder-length hair swirled a stemless glass of dark red wine. He wore a purple button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up a few folds, and a pair of sensible-looking slacks. He had an accent. Not like the one Gilbert and his brother had, nor one like Elizabeta's. Perhaps closer to Feliciano's, but spoken smoother and less rapidly. Both accents had a musical way to them, yet the blonde's sounded slightly more melodic._

 _"Watch out, Francis," Gilbert's own voice rang out into the scene. The bar they were in was packed, noise coming from every corner and every mouth. Still, it was as if Gilbert's voice, and his alone, echoed throughout the room, "I don't want to lose this job from you abusing the free wine."_

 _"Oh, Francis knows better than that," Antonio said, a dark-haired man sitting next to the blonde. This man's hair bounced in every direction in loose curls. His eyes were green and relaxed, his smile bright and carefree. He held a beer in one hand, which surprised Gilbert who stood across from them on the other side of the counter. It wasn't uncommon for Antonio to have a beer, he was the type to switch between it and wine (though he certainly never drank the same beer as Gilbert. "Too strong," Antonio would say. "Too awesome," Gilbert would reply), but usually, when drinking with Francis, he would decide on wine to drink the same. "He knows he can't afford for you to lose another job, or you'd be sleeping on his couch again."_

 _"Why is it that he never sleeps on your couch, mon ami?" Francis asks, in which Antonio promptly responds._

 _"Because you know how Lovi is! He's very particular about that kind of thing."_

 _"Hey," Gilbert interjects, "For your information, I quit that last job! I'm too awesome for a boring job like that." Gilbert wiped his hands on the bar towel he had just used to wipe the counter with. "And by 'particular', Antonio means to say that Lovino hates me." Gilbert went on to collect glasses from down the counter as Antonio tried to make excuses for his boyfriend._

 _Francis ignored Antonio and continued to talk to Gilbert who was walking back now with three glasses. "You know you cannot always have your dream job, Gilbert. Sometimes you must choose the 'boring' job in order to pay your bills."_

 _Gilbert laughed as he cleaned the glasses one by one. "Two things, Francey. One, this_ is _my dream job. No more looking for me. I will be here for the rest of my days unless I get fired, but, come on, who's gonna fire the awesome me?" Gilbert glanced around the room, from the boisterous laughter of the people in booths to the loners and flirts on the stools at the bar. There was a mixture of smells circling the air: liquor, day-old cologne, desperation. It was the type of bar that office workers often came to after a long day behind a desk as their wives blew up their phones demanding where they were instead of at home for dinner. It wasn't Francis' type of place. Antonio... well, he could fit in anywhere. Gilbert though, he loved it there. He couldn't imagine a place he would rather earn his living._

 _"Two," Gilbert continued, turning his attention back to his audience of two, "Both of_ you _have your quote, unquote, 'Dream jobs.' Francis, you've wanted to be a chef since you were three and what are you now? Antonio, you've wanted to teach since I've known you! Come on, guys. Don't tell me we can't have our dreams."_

 _Antonio and Francis looked at each other. Antonio looked back at Gilbert with a grin on his face. "You are right, Gil. We all have our dream jobs and life is good." Antonio grabbed his bottle and lifted it into the air, right above eye-level, "To us living our dreams!"_

 _Francis looked on with amusement look on his face, until he took his own glass and held it up as well, "To realizing our dreams."_

 _"Really, guys?" When they both just met Gilbert's gaze with raised eyebrows, Gilbert relented, lifting one of the empty glasses he had been cleaning to the toast. "Alright, fine."_

 _The glasses clinked together and his friends swigged a fine gulp of their drinks. Gilbert put his glass back onto the counter._

 _"And..." Gilbert couldn't help adding, watching his friends turn to each other with a new conversation on their lips. "To a happy life..."_

This memory was sweet. Gilbert didn't have many of those anymore. The happy ones were the ones to be most suspicious of anyway. There was always a reason they cropped up. There were always questions they created that were best left unanswered.

Who are Francis and Antonio? Why haven't they come to see Gilbert? How could there be so much that Gilbert still didn't know?

And why was there still some part of him, the tiniest part of his heart that he tried to shove down and forget, that still wanted to remember?

-/-

Gilbert couldn't stay put any longer. He couldn't lay still in that room. He couldn't be where anyone could find him. The apartment was suffocating. Gilbert couldn't breath with these thoughts swirling around and around and around and ar-...

Gilbert slammed his palms into the side of his head, relieving his arms from the tearing of his nails. He pulled at his hair and jumped up from his fetal position on his bed, throwing open the door to his room and stomping out. He passed the living room, the hallway, the kitchen. He knew his brother would be on his tail soon which only made his escape feel all the more pressing. Ludwig's concern was wearing on him as much as his constant memories. Gilbert needed to get out of there. He needed to leave. He needed to GET OUT!

The next thing he knew, Gilbert was in the park. Everything had been a blur before then and he couldn't quite remember how he had gotten there or how he had fled the apartment. Only that Ludwig hadn't followed him and that he was finally alone. He almost sobbed in relief, but stopped to contemplate his solitude. Did he like being alone?

Gilbert sat on one of the park benches, gazing around at his surroundings. The sky was blue and the sun shone just brightly enough that it warmed him without scorching his sensitive skin. The trees' leaves were a shade of green that made Gilbert relax and the sound of chirping from within them almost made him smile. Yeah... Gilbert liked being alone.

It was such a pleasant day. Children were running across the grass, chasing after one another for no apparent reason anyone but they could see. Gilbert noticed as one broke off from the group after falling to the ground. The little girl had scraped her knee yet no tears welled in her eyes as she limped back to her mother. The mother fussed over her when the girl arrived at the bench she was sitting at, a stroller parked next to her and a baby's curious eyes peering out over the edge of the plastic table part fastened to the front.

Gilbert's mind's eye was closer to the child in another moment, but, instead of seeing the young girl's baby sibling, Gilbert saw his own little brother, blue eyes watching him from inside his own stroller as Gilbert showed his Vati what an unawesome scrape he had gotten on his knee.

Gilbert shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He now saw that the mother had completed her fussing over the girl who sat beside her, swinging her legs which now had a single bandaid on and sipped from a juice box in her hands.

It was odd. Even though Gilbert could not escape his memories here, he still found this park peaceful. It was the most relaxed he had been since before the memories started to return. Gilbert liked this serenity. It was so much better than the emotional turmoil he had felt only five minutes ago. Gilbert closed his eyes for a moment, letting the feeling wash over him and forgetting everything. How easy it was when he let it happen. He counted to twenty and then opened his eyes.

He should not have opened them.

There was a man walking down the sidewalk to his left. He had bright blonde hair, styled in a messy sort of look. He was tall and his face had all the same features and angles that Gilbert remembered. Immediately, Gilbert's pulse began to speed up. Panic seeped its way into his bloodstream, rising into his head and pumping through his heart. The signs of a scream built in his throat unable to escape because of this terror-like feeling that overwhelmed him. He felt trapped, like a bird in a cage too small.

Then the man caught his eye and Gilbert noticed his glasses. Rectangular and modern-styled. That wasn't right... This was familiar too, but it wasn't right... This thought stopped Gilbert's thoughts dead in their tracks. Panic still laced his veins, but Gilbert let himself freeze long enough to think. He knew this man... But it wasn't him...

The man took an indecisive step towards him and Gilbert's adrenaline shot sky-high, causing his legs to crave fleeing the situation. Why couldn't Gilbert move though? If his body wanted to run, why wouldn't it just do it?

Gilbert's eyes were stuck on the man who still seemed unsure as to what he should do. He had frozen as well, as if time had stopped around the two. Rather quickly, the man seemed to make up his mind, pulling himself together and continuing along the path. He was coming straight toward Gilbert with a determined resolution set in his face. Gilbert remained paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch him approach.

Gilbert continued on like this until the man was close enough that he could see his eyes. His suspicions were correct. It wasn't him. But... why... he _did_ know this man as well...

 _His eyes were different the day he had come to tell him. His eyes were never so... hollow, lifeless. Shock ran through those blue eyes as if he had been struck by lightning and was still trying to piece together what had happened to him. Usually he looked so happy and carefree. It was unnatural to see him like this. In this respect, he was a lot like Gilbert._

"Alfred..." Gilbert's lips moved of their own accord, his voice barely loud enough for his own ears to hear what he had said.

Alfred hadn't heard him. He was only a few feet away now. "Hey, man..." Gilbert couldn't describe what emotions were mixed into his voice. Uneasiness. Fear. Guilt...?

 _Alfred's tone was impossible to understand. Shock. Sorrow. Guilt...? It didn't matter. None of it mattered after those words._

 _"Antonio is dead."_

"I'm sure I'm the last person you wanted to see today." Alfred scratched his head, having paused a little ways away from the bench as to not get too close. "I didn't really expect to see you either..."

 _Another voice now. "It was unnatural seeing him like that, Gilbert. He doesn't belong like that. Antonio... he... It isn't right."_

"I'm sorry, Gilbert." Alfred's voice was softer than Gilbert remembered. In that moment, it almost reminded him of someone else's...

 _"We belong together, Gil."_

"It's no excuse. I should have done something sooner..." Alfred's eyes are pleading. "He was my brother, Gilbert."

 _"He was my brother, Gilbert." Tears streamed down Alfred's face. Matthew was gone and so was Gilbert's mind. People would call Alfred a hero and the man would never accept it. It had been at the price of his brother's life._

He was remembering too fast. Gilbert didn't understand anything that was going through his head. One memory after another demanded to be played in his mind's view, pushing one another aside before any could be completed. He was receiving them all in fragments. What was going on? What was happening? What had happened in all these fragments of his past?

 _"Francis is gone too. That was the final straw. I knew what was happening then. I knew who it was that had taken you... I was so blind before..." Alfred was sobbing uncontrollably. His words sounded empty, but he spoke them anyway. Finally he couldn't take it. He couldn't try defending what he had done any longer._

 _"MATTHEW!"_

Gilbert couldn't take it anymore. He had to get away. He didn't want that face looking at him. Alfred looked too much like him. Alfred brought back too many memories. He had just met the man, yet he had torn down everything Gilbert had fought to keep together. Gilbert was shaking... he was crumbling... he was broken.

When a tear fell down his face, that was when Gilbert had had enough. He stood abruptly and raced off in the other direction. Grass crumpled under his feet and his arms burned, having not done this in who knew how long. Alfred tried to get him to come back by yelling after him, but he did not move. He let Gilbert go.

Gilbert did not know where he was going because he was already gone.

-/-

Gilbert felt like a penny at a wishing well. A small, insignificant object waiting to fall down into the water. Would he make a little metallic clang when he fell down? Would there be a _ploop_ when he hit the bottom, waiting to sink down to an indiscernible fate? What would it be like when he was gone? Could he finally escape the horrors of the life before his? Could he forget every pain and sorrow that hurt him?

The river below was far down from the bridge, falling over sharp rocks in freezing rapids and ready to sweep away any leaves or pennies that dropped in. Gilbert had run until he had found this place and, looking at the bridge and water, Gilbert had stopped with a thought in mind. Now he was standing on the wrong side of the bridge, the outside where he'd had to hoist himself over the railing. He wasn't shaking or scared like he had thought he would be. He could only look at the water below. It was impossible to look away.

His feet were so close to the edge. He knew that if he just let go of the railing behind him his body would fall forward and he would drop. Was it like flying? Or was it simply falling? Would he feel the air as it swept past or would he feel numb to the world in his final moments? Did death open the senses? At the moment, all Gilbert could see or hear or even smell was the rapids below him. All he could feel were the biting cold of the wind around him. When had the weather turned? Gilbert wondered absentmindedly.

The ledge was comfortable. His knuckles were turning from their tense white to a soft pink as they lost their grip. His shoulders were relaxing and his eyes were slipping closed. The world was quiet.

"GILBERT!"

Gilbert involuntarily strengthened his grip, eyes popping open but remaining downcast at the water below. The voice was unmistakable. Gilbert had no idea how he had found him, but here he was. Ludwig had found him just in time.

Guilt flooded Gilbert's body. How could he have done this? How could he have considered doing this without even considering his little brother? He barely remembered the guy, yet he was still the closest person he had. He hadn't left Ludwig a note. He haven't even thought about how this might affect him.

But maybe it would help him. Maybe this would be better for Ludwig. Gilbert's grip slackened again, only leaving enough strength to keep him up. Ludwig wouldn't have to worry about him anymore... Ludwig could focus on his own life and not have to babysit his amnesiac brother anymore...

"Gilbert! Stop!" That's when Gilbert felt a hand on his arm, grip like iron. His brother's breath behind him was labored, almost frantic. Ludwig was in such great shape; he must have strained himself even past that to get there.

Gilbert remained silent, his gaze downward. He couldn't look at his brother. He knew what he would see in his eyes. Fear. Panic. A familiarity from their younger years that would undoubtedly take Gilbert back. His mind was swirling with the mixture if memories trying to take over. If he looked back, he wasn't sure what would happen.

"Gilbert, get back over here. What are you doing?" Gilbert almost smiled. There it was. Ludwig always sounded so demanding, like a drill sergeant. That was his little brother, perhaps the only person who hadn't completely changed from his past memories.

Gilbert decided to tell him the truth. "I think I should jump, Luddy." Even in such a serious situation, Gilbert couldn't help using the pet name.

Gilbert imagined Ludwig looking at him as if he had gone crazy. "What? Gilbert, no. Why would you want to do that?"

Gilbert began to think of his answer to that. That's when the whole situation became very real to him. He was no longer numb; he was a man who had been ready to jump to his death. A man _still_ ready to jump to his death. He began to shake uncontrollably.

"It's too much, Ludwig. I can't handle it anymore." Gilbert's voice was shaking as much as his body. "I want it all to go away. I'm remembering so much pain and so much of it is confusing. It hurts my head."

"We can work it out, Gilbert." Ludwig's voice had become more frantic. "It's just confusing because you don't remember all of it yet."

"And should I remember?! I don't want to and I really don't think you want me to either! Whatever happened to me before is something that tore me apart and will tear me apart again. If I don't do this now, I will be back."

Nothing Ludwig could say would make him change his mind. It was here and now. This was the best for himself and it was the best for everyone else too. They wouldn't have to take care of him anymore or deal with his breakdowns. They would be free of him and he would be free of his pain.

Then, Gilbert stopped. "Gilbert," Ludwig's voice said behind him. It was soft and... and... "Please don't do this..." Crying. His brother was crying. "I can't lose you again."

Gilbert looked behind him and in a split second he saw his brother's tear-stained face. His blue eyes seemed to be shaking and breakable. Gilbert hadn't seen Ludwig like this in a long time. In fact, it hadn't been since... Then, Gilbert's memories took over and he saw a little boy before him, tears streaking down in the same way his brother's were. It was his brother at six years old.

Then Gilbert slipped, lost in the glimpse of recollection before him. He screamed and he could hear his brother, now no longer his younger memory, yell, "Gilbert!"

Ludwig's grip tightened but the momentum was too much and Gilbert fell from the edge.

A single memory repeated in his head. It wasn't any from his past life though. It was from only seconds before. They were words spoken to the person he was now, not to that Gilbert he barely knew from before.

 _I can't lose you again._ _I can't lose you again._ _I can't lose you again._ _I can't lose you again._ _I can't lose you again._

He couldn't leave Ludwig now. Not like this! He couldn't leave his little brother!

But sometimes you don't get to decide what happens to you. Sometimes, you just fall.

-/-

 _BEILSCHMIDT_

Their last name didn't look right on a headstone. It didn't look right engraved on a grey slab of rock, still smooth because of its newness. The tombstone became the person when they were buried there. Not human. Not flesh or life. Death was a tombstone and tombstones were not good conversationalists. He hadn't talked to this particular headstone very much. Hell, he hadn't talked to headstones in general. He hadn't encountered death this personal before.

Then again, Gilbert still couldn't remember half of his past life.

Gilbert walked up to the grave, a bouquet of cornflowers in hand. They were his favorite, he had decided and knew they were just the kind he would want to give to his grandfather.

"Hey, Vati." Gilbert placed the flowers down beside the rock and stood back up, "They told me I would find you here. Sorry I didn't come sooner; I've been working some things out."

There had been a lot Gilbert had been working out. He could remember more: mostly things that were relevant to the past year. Gilbert knew he would need to remember everything eventually, but he was taking his time. Now, he thought back to the past month, memories he hadn't needed any keys to unlock.

It had been a miracle that he had survived at the bridge. It had been a miracle that Ludwig had already had his hand on Gilbert's arm and unbelievable how he had managed to hold on as the momentum of Gilbert's fall had caused him to fall forward himself. There had been many miracles that day.

No matter how strong Ludwig was, he simply wasn't strong enough to lift Gilbert back up. He had used both hands and they both had stayed there, Gilbert barely breathing and Ludwig's coming out in laborious puffs, waiting for someone to pass by to call for help. It had taken so long and Gilbert had been suspended there for quite sometime before someone had passed by. Gilbert had tried to convince Ludwig to let go, afraid his brother would fall in with him, but, in the end, they had both made it out alive.

The month was a blur, yet it stood out clearly in Gilbert's head. It wasn't something Gilbert wanted to think about at the moment. It had been a long recovery and even now he still wasn't fully healthy, but here he was. Alive. Visiting with his grandfather's grave. Thinking about his past without feeling the urge to run away from his memories.

Speaking of memories...

Gilbert had remembered Antonio and Francis: his two best friends since high school and another thing Matthew had taken from him. He remembered many of the times they had laughed together and told jokes to each other. He remembered playing pranks and sharing heartaches. These memories were happy and made Gilbert smile. Most were bittersweet, tainted with the knowledge he now had from his seven months of absence.

He remembered the day Alfred had come to tell him that Antonio was dead. He remembered how Francis had said that Antonio didn't look right like that... that it just wasn't _right_. He had gone to Antonio's funeral and seen his grave. He had never gotten to Francis'. Francis had died only a month before Gilbert had come back.

Gilbert remembered Antonio's funeral... that right there had been a personal death if he ever knew one. He remembered seeing Lovino, Antonio's boyfriend, crying and Alfred's hollow eyes and Matthew... Matthew had simply looked on.

Gilbert remembered a lot about being with Matthew those seven months... it was painful to think about it. He had felt so hopeless... so trapped...

But there were other memories too. The glimmers that had remained strongest until the end of his memory came to mind easily now. They were joyful, yet he could now remember them being his only solace as he curled up into his blankets and staring at a dark wall in his locked room.

A wop upside the head. Gilbert could smile at this. He knew who that must have been even when the old memories still didn't have faces to them. He didn't need a face for that memory though. Elizabeta had gotten back into the habit of hitting the backside of his head when he did something stupid. Some things never change.

Stern words from his brother. He didn't need an old memory of this anymore; he had plenty to draw on from now. Ludwig had been nagging him since he could remember and far beyond. There had one time when Ludwig, at the age of fourteen, confronted Gilbert for being late home when he had been out with his friends that night. And once when Gilbert had broken his arm and little eight-year-old Ludwig had lectured him the whole way to the emergency room as their grandfather had driven them.

The trill of his flute. He'd made many memorable days with his flute and as many happy moments. Johanna said that music could help with pent-up emotion, but Gilbert knew he couldn't. The memory of his silver flute would be all he would have of it. He couldn't go back to his Thursday sessions with Roderich. He would never pick up his flute again.

He had been attending therapy more since the incident on the bridge. Among his many problems, he had come to find that he was scared of being loved. That was an odd revelation to those who knew him, yet they all still tried their best to help. It was difficult, but they tried. Feliciano gave him hugs and Ludwig had even trained him to not launch himself at Gilbert without warning like he used to. Hugs were nice to Gilbert and he suspected that he had enjoyed them in the past. They were warm and comforting... Gilbert only had to bat down his rising panic at times when he accepted them. 'Bat down'; more like 'wrestle' or 'strangle'... Fear was a tough emotion to control.

Johanna said that he shouldn't hide from his emotions or tuck them away so others couldn't see. They 'bottled up', was the term she used. Gilbert couldn't agree more- at times he felt like a shaken up bottle of Coke. The more important question, though, was how to manage the emotions without the bottle exploding from the pressure of it all. They hadn't come that far yet. So far Gilbert couldn't even write in the little journal Johanna had given him, always imagining the blank page as that blank wall he used to stare at. He didn't want to go back there. If he wrote anything on those empty white pages, the same flat and hollow feelings would fill him and he wouldn't be able to shake them away.

Old memories cropped up everyday, but new ones were made as well.

He had made plenty of them in his own life. That's what he had taken to calling all the things he had after the amnesia. Because that was what it was. This was his life now. Before may technically have also been, but Gilbert didn't really consider it that way anymore. Even when the memories did come back it was only as if it was a dream. He had heard of people experiencing flashbacks in a traumatic situation, but, even in his memories with Matthew, they were never like that. He felt empty and lonely and occasionally even scared, but it was all like a dream to him.

That past was no longer his life. His life had started in the hospital the day before those flowers had arrived. Those wilting flowers felt like a lifetime ago...

Gilbert still felt guilty about this. No one's life had simply stopped when he had gone, nor had they started when he had gotten back. Everyone had memories of a life before and, unlike with Gilbert, those memories weren't merely dreams to them.

Gilbert felt guilty about a lot lately. His fears and amnesia. Not being the same person all these people once knew and the death of his dearest friends... They said not to blame himself, but who else was there to blame?

Matthew. They had said to blame Matthew. But how could he blame someone who too was dead... and because of him? The guilt was always on Gilbert, no matter what he tried to think. If he blamed someone else he could loop it around back to himself. It was an endless cycle.

Gilbert remembered a time when Matthew was his friend. He had been a normal guy - someone to talk to or grab a beer with. The guy who loved pancakes and red flannel. The guy who kept a stuffed polar bear that his mother had given him. Gilbert had known him as a normal guy, someone with a personality and past and memories of his own. Yet, he really hadn't been that 'normal guy' at all, had he?

Gilbert looked down at the stone monument he was still standing a few feet away from and folded his hands in front of himself. He thought of this man. His grandfather. The man he had known all of his life, yet had never met. Because that was in his past life. He had so many memories of the man, but he couldn't call them his own. He couldn't call this man his grandfather; he couldn't call him anything. That was not what Vati deserved though. His grandfather had given so much to Gilbert and it was up to this new Gilbert to pay his respects. Finally, Gilbert knew what to say.

"Seven months can be a long time, can't it?" So much happened while I was gone..." Gilbert was still fidgeting with his hands. He could never stay still when he was nervous. "But I'm back. Not quite quick enough, I see..." Pause. Gilbert's voice had gone to a whisper in surprising emotion. He wasn't sure if he could do this. He didn't even know the man! But the unfairness of it all had struck Gilbert. This man had never asked for his grandson to be kidnapped. He had never planned on dying only a month before his grandson's return. This man would have never wished for a stranger to stand at his gravestone in the stead of his grandson, talking to him through the same mouth that should have known him.

"I'm sorry I've come back to you like this. I don't even know who you are and you probably wouldn't recognize me." More silence. Merely a short pause, but Gilbert couldn't hold the emotion from his voice now. He had never been able to speak to his therapist or anyone in this way since he had been back. He had never been this open with Ludwig or Elizabeta or Feliciano. It was easier talking to an empty graveyard or to silent headstone. It was easier talking to Vati, a man he had never known. He didn't know if this was because it was like he was talking to a stranger or because of some spectacular emotional bond he had with the man. Maybe it was because he was talking to the green grass and colorful flowers of the headstones that decorated the lot. Perhaps he just really trusted Vati in some weird way.

"I'm sorry I've caused your real grandson such a hard time." Gilbert laughed humorlessly. "It's nice having a brother though. He's probably the only one that I would consider as part of my past. That sounds weird, but I just can't get it out of my head all the times I was his big brother. Maybe one day I'll feel like that again with everyone else. Maybe one day... I'll be your grandson again." Gilbert closed his eyes. His fists clenched and he bit his lip. He was getting emotional. Damn it. His next words came out as a sob. "I'm sorry, Vati."

As quick as it had come though, Gilbert stoppered the flood. A thick cinder block wall kept his emotions at bay and Gilbert wiped at his eyes, remembering that Ludwig was in the car not too far away waiting for him, watching. Gilbert's voice came out as a whisper now, "But I'm going to work on it, okay? I'm still terrified, but I'll get there. Ludwig will be happier then and so will everyone else. Hell, I might even be happy."

Gilbert sighed. "I don't think you'll ever get your old Gilbert back. I don't think I'll ever be the same. I hope I can give Ludwig a brother back though... and you a grandson back." Gilbert then laughed. "Wow, I'm all mushy gushy today, aren't I?" Gilbert's voice was closer to its loud and brash tone, one that had rarely come out since he had been back. He lowered it again, not down to the whisper it had been but to a more neutral level.

"Alright, I guess I'll see ya later, Pops! Haha, who knows if I've ever called you that before! Well, maybe you. Maybe me if I would actually remember crap." Gilbert laughed again and shrugged. Then Gilbert turned and strode down the lawn, away from the grave markers and to the car where his little brother awaited him.

 _"I'll see ya later, Pops!"_

 _Gilbert's grandfather chuckled at the odd name his grandson had used. He watched as Gilbert ran for the school bus, ready to take him off to his first day of school. He had never heard his grandson call him 'Pops' before, but with Gilbert as a grandson, he wasn't quite surprised. Gilbert sure was a strange boy. He would do fine making friends at school._

 _He waved to the white-haired boy as he peered out the window by his seat. He smiled. "Bye, Gilbert." He said, knowing the boy was already far enough away that he couldn't hear._

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading. I've had a lot of fun writing this! Go check out _gdesertsand_ 's work and the prompt exchange we've done! I still have one prompt left to write for you, Sand, so stay tuned!**

 **(oh, and sorry about the title. it was supposed to be something about Gil's failing memory but I didn't incorporate it well. oops!)**


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